Mysteria Nights

by P. C. Cast

  “There’s nothing insane about wanting a guy who’s lighthearted and happy and fun. And blond,” she added.

  “You forgot ‘and easy to control,’” Jenny added, then she hurried on, talking over Summer’s sputtering protestations. “Girlfriend, just because a man is intense doesn’t mean he’s not happy and even fun sometimes, too. Plus, you might want to consider that lighthearted could mean light-headed, as in the guy might not have enough sense to be serious,” Jenny said. “And what the hell’s wrong with tall, dark, and handsome?”

  “Not believing you about the whole broody-could-equal-happy thing,” Summer said stubbornly, completely ignoring the obvious reference to Ken’s brains or lack thereof. “And I happen to prefer blonds, lighthearted blonds in particular.”

  “Did you prefer them when Colin had you in a lip-lock?”

  “Yes. I still preferred them. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

  “Which brings us back to my main point. You were surprised because it was so damn good. If it’s so damn good, you might want to consider revisiting the scene of the crime.”

  “You want me to get back in the painting?”

  “No, I want you to get back on the vampire.”

  “Jenny, I am going to get ready for my date. With Ken. The guy I’m really attracted to. So I’m going now. Bye.”

  “All right, all right! I hope you have a good time, and I want all the details.”

  “Good-bye, Jenny.”

  “Jeesh you’re grumpy when you’re sexually confused. Bye.”

  “I’m not sexually confused,” Summer told the dead phone. She glanced at the clock. “Shoot! I am late, though.” Putting Colin out of her mind, Summer rushed into the kitchen and threw the tofu spaghetti sauce together to simmer.

  She also put Colin out of her mind while she showered. The warm water running down her naked body did not remind her of the warmth of his hands through the ultrathin material of the chemise.

  “His hands aren’t even warm. Not really,” she muttered as she put on just a hint of makeup.

  And she definitely didn’t think about him while she picked out the ever-so-cute peach lace bra and panties set and then slid on the breezy, buttercup-colored skirt and the creamy, V-neck pullover that made her look and feel like a fresh spring wildflower, basking in the sunlight, just waiting to be plucked by a tall, dark—

  “No!” she told herself, and marched into the kitchen. Summer was stirring the pot of sauce when the jaunty shave and a haircut, two bits knock sounded against her front door. She patted her hair and hurried through the living room.

  “Hey, Sum! I couldn’t figure out what kind of wine to get, so I got, like, three colors. I figured the more the merrier.” Ken grinned boyishly and presented the bag that, sure enough, held a bottle of cheap Cabernet, cheap Chardonnay, and cheap white Zinfandel.

  Summer returned his smile and motioned for him to come in, squelching her disappointment that there wasn’t a bottle of nice Chianti in the mix. It wasn’t like Ken could have known they were having spaghetti and that she preferred Italian wine with it. She’d just let him know next time. “How about we open the red? It’ll go great with the spaghetti,” she said.

  “You made spaghetti?” He took off his jacket and dropped it over the back of the couch before she could ask him for it.

  “Yeah, I hope you like it.”

  “Spaghetti’s awesome! Hope it’s almost ready. I’m starving.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him all she’d have to do is to boil the pasta, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak.

  “Hey, want me to come to the kitchen with you and open the wine? A drink would be awesome.”

  “Sure, come on back,” she said and then led him to the back of the cabin and her sister’s spacious kitchen.

  “Wow, this is a great kitchen,” Ken said appreciatively.

  “Yeah, Candice loves her gourmet cooking.” She sent Ken a shy look as she handed him the corkscrew. “Hope you’re not disappointed that she got most of the cooking genes in our family.”

  “Nah, as long as it’s hot and full of meat, I’m cool with it.”

  “Uh, Ken, didn’t you remember that I’m a vegetarian?”

  He looked up from opening the wine. “Huh? A what?” Then he glanced at the simmering pot on the stove. “Oh, you’re worried I won’t like your spaghetti.” Grinning, he grabbed the big stirring spoon and ladled himself a generous taste test. “Yum! You don’t have anything to be nervous about. This sauce is awesome!” he said through a full mouth.

  “Oh, uh, good.” Summer stirred the bubbling pasta. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, she decided. Or at least she didn’t think fairies were allergic to tofu.

  While Summer put the finishing touches on their meal, Ken sat on her sister’s pristine butcher block island, drank wine, and talked. And talked. And talked.

  “Hey, Sum, so you actually made it through college.”

  “Yeah. It’s funny—I didn’t think I’d like the academic part of it, but once I got into my lit major I—”

  “Man, I don’t know how you stayed away from Mysteria for four whole years. No way would I want to do that. The mundane world is no place for fairies.”

  “Well, I did miss Mysteria, and, well, lots of the people here.” She smiled and felt her cheeks get warm when she added, “Especially certain fairies. That’s one of the reasons I came back.”

  “Of course you missed fairies. The world just isn’t the same without them!” He jumped off the counter and bowed to her with a big flourish before pouring himself more wine.

  He looked so boyish and carefree that she had to smile at him. “Then I should feed you so we can be sure you don’t expire. I know how much fairies love food.”

  “That we do!” He hurried into the dining room where she had two places already set with intimate candles and her sister’s beautiful china, leaving her to carry in the spaghetti and the sauce. He had thought to bring the bottle of wine with him, though.

  So they ate, and Ken talked. And talked. And talked.

  At first Summer just listened to him, commenting now and then (although his exuberant “conversation” really didn’t require much participation on her part), and thinking about how cute he looked in the candlelight. His blond hair was thick and a little shaggy, but it looked good on him, and it glistened with a sparkle of fairy magic when the candlelight caught it just right. His blue eyes were big and expressive, his face completely animated. He really was a cute guy. And the direct opposite of dark and broody and intense and sexy . . .

  No! Ken was sexy. She’d always thought he was sexy. After all, she’d had a major crush on him since they were teenagers. And she also—

  “Sum, did you hear me? I said that you’ve really grown all up. It’s kind of a surprise. Not that you don’t look awesome,” he hurried to add. “But it’s a grown-up awesome. You’ve changed.”

  “Oh, uh, thanks. I think.” Summer took a sip of wine. “You haven’t changed at all,” she said.

  “Thanks, Sum! You know how fairies are—young for years. Good thing, too, ’cause the party planning and supply business isn’t for the old and serious.”

  “So you’re going into your family’s business?”

  “Of course! I love parties, and I especially love fireworks.” He sat up straighter, clearly proud of himself. “You’ve been gone, so you probably don’t know this, but I’ve been put in charge of the pyrotechnics for Fairies 4 Fantastic Festivals, Inc.”

  “That’s great, Ken. I’m really proud of you. Your dad must be—”

  “Yeah, it’s awesome! Just wait till you see what we’re planning for Beltane this year. It’s gonna be super cool with . . .”

  Summer smiled and nodded while Ken talked. And talked. And talked. She also studied him. She hadn’t been exaggerating. He really hadn’t changed in the four years she’d been gone. He was wearing a T-shirt that said this way to the gun show with arrows pointing to his biceps. Summer had to s
tifle a giggle. His biceps were like the rest of his body, young and cute and lean. They were definitely not “guns,” loaded or otherwise. And she definitely wasn’t comparing them to Colin’s muscular arms.

  She mentally shook herself while Ken paused in his monologue to jog into the kitchen to snag the bottle of Chardonnay. He came back in the room, still talking about the plans for the “awesome” fireworks show that would be the climactic event of Mysteria’s Beltane festival. She saw that his faded, baggy jeans were fashionably shredded over both knees, and he was wearing bright blue Skechers.

  Nope, he definitely hadn’t changed since high school.

  It was about then that Summer began to wonder if dinner would ever end.

  “Dang, Sum, sorry about your headache,” Ken said as she handed him his jacket and walked him to the door.

  “I guess I’m just tired from teaching all day.”

  He stopped at the door she’d opened and turned to face her. “It was great to see you again. I’m really glad you’re back, Sum.” Ken rested an arm over her shoulder nonchalantly as he slouched in the doorway. His blue eyes sparkled with another smile. “Dinner was totally—”

  “Awesome?” She provided the word when he hesitated.

  “Yeah, it really was. And you’re awesome, too.” Slowly, Ken bent to her. His kiss was sweet and questioning and very, very gentle. In other words, it was everything Summer believed she’d wanted in a kiss from the man she’d been fantasizing about for years.

  She didn’t feel a thing in response.

  Give him a chance, she chided herself. This is what you decided you want. He fits in the plan. Summer leaned into Ken and put her arms around his neck, returning his questioning kiss with an exclamation mark.

  She felt the surprise in his body, and then he parted his lips and followed her lead, kissing her deeper, longer. Summer thought he tasted, weirdly, like wine and lemonade. She wondered vaguely why he always reminded her of lemons—not the tart kind, but the supersweet Country Time Lemonade lemons, with lots of sugar. Lots.

  Ken was still kissing her, softly and sweetly, while Summer’s mind wandered. She was thinking about what she was supposed to teach her sophomores the next day as she absently looked over his shoulder at the dark edge of the forest. She thought she saw something move there, just inside the boundaries of her yard, and wondered what it was. The moon was high and insanely bright and almost about full. Could it be one of the town’s many werewolves?

  And then it hit her; she was thinking about school, and werewolves, and the moon while Ken was making out with her. That just couldn’t be right. When Colin had kissed her, she hadn’t been able to think of anything except him. His touch. His mouth. His taste. His kiss. Ken’s kisses made her want to compile a shopping list or maybe fold some laundry.

  No. This definitely was not going to work. Time to change the plan.

  Instantly she pulled away from him. He gave her a sweet, boyish smile. “Sorry, Sum. Did I get carried away?”

  “No, Ken, honey.” Summer patted his cheek gently. “I got carried away. I think it’s best if you and I stay good friends and don’t mess that up with trying to be more than that. Do you know what I mean?”

  Ken’s smile didn’t falter. “Sure, whatever. That’s fine with me. Hey, do you think I could have some of that awesome spaghetti sauce to take with me so I could snack on it later?”

  “Sure Kenny-benny,” Summer said and, laughing, made him up a quick to-go package, patted him on his head, and said good night. Before she closed the door, she heard the distinctive giggles of several female fairies who had obviously been waiting to escort their Kenny-benny home. Or wherever.

  She was still shaking her head at herself while she cleaned up the dinner dishes. “Jenny was right. I might be insane.” Ken was so not the man for her. Actually, if she was being totally honest with herself, Kenny-benny was so not a man yet, and clearly, he might never be. Rinsing the dishes, she laughed out loud. She should be upset at having her fantasy of the Perfect Man blown to pieces and her future plan messed up, or at the very least she should have been disappointed, but she wasn’t. She definitely wasn’t.

  Her hands slid through the warm, soapy water making her think of slick, naked skin sliding against slick, naked skin . . . of heat . . . and passion . . . and a kiss that could seem to stop the world . . .

  No! She couldn’t want the vampire.

  And then, while washing Kenny-benny’s very empty plate, she looked up at her reflection in the dark window above the sink. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were big and dark with desire.

  “Am I absolutely positive that I can’t want the vampire?” she asked herself.

  Yes, you’re absolutely positive, her reflection seemed to reply.

  “But his kiss was—”

  Reason one you can’t want him, her refection interrupted, is that he is a carnivore, and that makes you want to throw up a little in the back of your throat.

  “I don’t have to eat what he eats. Oh, Goddess, I don’t, do I?” Did one share one’s blood with a vampire, or did one’s vampire eat solo?

  Reason two, her reflection continued, his flesh is cold, dead, hard . . .

  “Well, what’s wrong with hard?” she argued with herself. “Plus, he touched me before we were in the painting, and it really wasn’t that bad.”

  Reason three, he’s not your type!

  “Okay, look,” she told herself sternly. “Up until about ten minutes ago, I thought Kenny was my type. Maybe I need to change my type!”

  Reason four—her conscience ignored her—he makes you feel out of control, and you don’t like feeling out of control.

  “Well, that’s because he was unexpected. He’s expected now, so I won’t have a control problem. I left my purse at his gallery.” Silently she thanked the Goddess for that slip, Freudian or not. “I have to see him one more time.”

  “Yeah, so, tomorrow I’ll just swing by the gallery after school and pick up my purse,” she talked around her toothbrush to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “No big deal. No enormous ulterior motive,” she lied. “Just getting my purse, saying a quick hello, then coming home. There won’t be any more kissing. None at all. It wouldn’t even be appropriate. Really.”

  Summer crawled into bed, thinking about the difference between Ken’s kisses and Colin’s kisses. What a difference . . .

  Why had she ever thought passion and heat were bad things? Okay, she knew the answer to that, even if she didn’t like to admit it. She was scared of too much passion, that it would cause her to lose control, and if she lost control, she’d get burned. Summer had learned that lesson well with her stupid out-of-control magic. Maybe it was smart of her to be scared. Was playing with a vampire like playing with fire? Or ice?

  Fire, she decided as her body heated the cool sheets. Colin’s passion had been exactly like fire. Her hands touched her lips, remembering Colin’s caress, and then slid slowly down her body, pausing to cup her breasts. Her nipples ached. Summer squeezed them, gently at first, and then she craved more, and her touch got rougher as she teased her ultrasensitive nipples. She moaned. Almost as if she couldn’t stop the impulse, one of her hands moved down between her legs. Summer gasped at the slick heat she found there. She was liquid with desire. She closed her eyes and stroked herself. As her orgasm built, Summer imagined hands on her body and lips against her skin, and when her release came, it was Colin’s intensity that she was thinking of and his touch she yearned for.

  Seven

  Colin had never felt like such an utter fool. What in all the levels of the underworld was he doing walking through the moonlit forest carrying a purse? I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m being a gentleman, he thought. I may be dead, but chivalry isn’t. Summer left her purse at the gallery, and I’m returning it. A woman’s purse was a sacred thing. Goddess knows what all was kept in one; Colin would almost rather take a long walk outside at noon than actually look in the damned thing. Thankfully, it was zipped cl
osed, but he still held it gingerly, like it might explode if he handed it too roughly. There wasn’t much he could do except return it. The sooner the better. Sure, he could hang on to it and wait for Summer to realize where she left it and then come claim it. But she’d been through a lot. It might take her a day or two, hell, even three, to get around to it. Until then, what about all that important stuff inside the purse? The only thing he could do with a clear conscience, was to return it to her right away. Or at least that’s how he rationalized his overwhelming need to see her again—immediately.

  The package carefully wrapped in the gallery’s chic, black, hand-pressed paper was a damn sight tougher to rationalize away.

  Or maybe not. Colin shrugged his broad shoulders. Why hide behind rationalizations? He was courting a woman. That was nothing to feel foolish about, even if it meant carrying her purse through the woods while pink love petals fell from the sky and fairies giggled annoyingly as they played naked hide-and-seek among the trees. Goddess, fairies were irritating!

  Colin glared at a silver-winged, pink-haired fairy who had frolicked close to him and given the vampire a coquettish smile that was a clear come-hither invitation.

  “Not interested,” he said firmly, giving the naked creature a dark look.

  Not at all offended, she shrugged her smooth shoulders and scampered off.

  Colin scowled after her. Fairies had never interested him. Actually, now that he was thinking about it, it had been a long time since any woman had caught his interest. Were he completely honest with himself, he would admit that no woman had affected him as this one had. And it wasn’t simply because she was beautiful and interesting. Summer had brought him sunlight!

  Summer . . . Colin felt the urge to laugh aloud. The name fit her perfectly. Sure, he knew she’d said the whole sunlight thing had been because of how her magic worked on spells, but she’d been wrong. He’d smelled sunlight on her, felt it in her touch, since the moment he’d taken her hand.

  After living in darkness for so long, there was one thing he definitely recognized, and that was the touch of the sun. He had to have more of that touch. So he was going to woo her until he won her.